


bruised ego

by mukemagic



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: (sorta) - Freeform, Embarrassment, Fluff and Crack, Friends to Lovers, Injury, M/M, This is just really dumb, You have been warned!, like i cant stress this enough that this is so daft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 00:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18487954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mukemagic/pseuds/mukemagic
Summary: ryan would prefer if shane wasn't being a good friend right now, he's trying to wallow in self-pity(or the one where ryan is acting shadey and shane is a sweet potato)





	bruised ego

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back, apparently the bfu lads have me resurrecting my desire for writing huh who'd have thought it  
> warning: this has not been beta'd because i have no cool friends and i threw this all together in the matter of an hour so expect errors (feel free to point them out)

Ryan pushes the sunglasses up on his nose, pulls his cap down further so it purposely spreads a shadow across his face. His head is dipped as he walks into the office, trying to avoid anyone and everyone as he sprints to his desk as quickly as his legs will allow him to. His goal is to be as incognito as he can and leave as early as possible. He just needs to be around for a few hours so the HR department doesn’t skin his ass, you see. Because he does like this job and doesn’t want to be fired.

He’s busy researching away. No one has approached him in his whole 40 minutes of being here. He probably looks crazily hungover, with his shades still covering his eyes and cap down low.

It’s Shane, of course, who interrupts him first. He is his desk mate and best friend after all. But it’s the fact he flicks at the baseball hat on Ryan’s head that causes the younger male to flinch.

“Woah, man! What’s got you so on edge? Seen some ghosties?” Shane mocks, throwing his long limbed self down in his seat.

“No, uh…” Ryan shrugs his shoulders, looking for an out. “Just didn’t hear you coming, you know… headphones on.”

“What’s with the brooding long nighter look?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“You’re wearing sunnies inside.” Shane points a finger at Ryan’s face.

“It’s- I’ve got a migraine? Trying to block out some light.” He lies.

Shane doesn’t look convinced.

“Dude, are you hungover? We need to film a Post Mortem episode today! Why you drinking on a Tuesday evening, anyway?”

“I didn’t!” Ryan yells, and then realises he’s drawing attention to them and abruptly shuts up.

“You’re not fooling me, Bergara.”

“Shane, I- I’m not hungover. I promise.” And because Ryan is both parts frustrated with the situation in which he’s found himself in _and_ because he wants to avoid further confrontation, he decides now is a great time for a coffee break. Outside, preferably, in a coffee shop a few blocks over where no one will recognise him.

Shane is calling after him but Ryan’s feet keep him moving. He should have just called in sick. Took a few days off. Until this whole… Situation (with a capital S) was less of a Problem (with a capital P).

You see, or rather, you can’t because Ryan’s been wearing sunglasses since before he left his apartment this morning. But behind said shades is something that the younger Ghoul Boy is ashamed of.

He’s sat in his car, ready to pull out, when the door to his passenger side is opened and in slides Shane and all his long limbs.

If Ryan lets out a high pitched shriek then that is entirely justifiable all things considered.

“You should really make locking your car a priority as soon as you get in, dude, like how eager are you to be murked in an LA car park?” Shane says casually, pulling his seatbelt across him and apparently inviting himself. “Where we going?”

“ _I_ was going for coffee. _Alone_.”

“Ouch, man.” Shane feigns hurt, placing his hands over his chest in mock dramatics and gasping for effect. “Wounded me to the core there. God, you’re so grouchy when you’re hungover.”

“I’m not hungover.” Ryan replied through gritted teeth.

“Then explain the get up, because shades and cap either screams heavy night of alcohol consumption or weird murderer… Wait, shit, is it the latter? Have I just got into the car of a murderer? Will I be Unsolved’s next case? Dude, that’s smart writing to have planted that seed all these years.” Shane rambles on, clearly joking to piss Ryan off further.

“I’m edging towards murder the more and more you speak.”

“Deserved that. But like… what’s going on?”

“I- please don’t- don’t make a comment but-“

Shane straightens up, suddenly serious, finally registering that his friend isn’t playing around.

Ryan removes the cap first and as the taller male watches, he notes that some of the shadowing the hat was creating doesn’t vanish. Ryan’s hand hovers on the arm of his sunglasses, like he’s struggling with the idea of taking them off. He sighs, resigning to his decision and pulls them away.

Shane gasps.

He takes in the purpling that surrounds Ryan’s left eye, a watercolour of deep shades that bloom across his swollen cheek.

Instinctively, he reaches out a hand, cupping at his friend’s jaw, careful not to touch any of the bruising. Ryan flinches, having not anticipated the sudden gentle fingers that turn his face slightly as they inspect his black eye.

“What happened? Who hurt you?” Shane looks visibly upset and concerned, Ryan squirms in his seat. His Midwestern friend usually jokes around, even during the most serious of situations, he works on easing tension. But right now, Shane’s genuine focus is solely on his friend and Ryan finds it far too intense.

Ryan swallows, throat bobbing with it.

“Ry- what happened?” Shane is staring directly into his eyes, set on capturing his attention. And Ryan hates how soft and caring he is being. He feels his cheeks turn pink, hot, with embarrassment.

Why hasn’t Shane removed his hand from his face? Why is he lightly stroking long fingers along his cheek?

“I’m not hungover.” Ryan whispers and then frowns. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He places his hand over Shane’s to move it away but his older friend doesn’t budge, and it leaves Ryan holding onto Shane’s hand as Shane holds onto his face.

If anyone passes by his car now, they’ll probably think this is some sort of intimate moment they’re sharing. The idea makes Ryan feel all the more frustrated because it’s _not_.

It’s not fair. What bad timing for Shane to continue showing what a great fucking friend he is when Ryan just wants to be by himself, wallowing in self-pity and suffocating in his mortification alone.

“I-“ The tanned male starts and then cuts himself off. How does he vocalise what happened without wanting the ground to open up and swallow him whole? He groans, irritated more with himself, jaw tensing below Shane’s fingers as he sets it, preparing himself to be defensive.

“I- accidentally punched myself in the face.” Ryan rushes out, words mushing together with the speed of it.

Shane’s brows furrow in confusion as his brain works to catch up. Ryan watches Shane’s face race through a variety of expressions: bewilderment, surprise before settling on amusement. And _ah_ there it is. His taller pal’s usual mirth, paired with his annoying smirk.

Ryan’s shoulders tense and he readies himself for the teasing he anticipates.

“Oh Ryan.” Shane says surprisingly quite sweetly, but still with an edge of laughter in his tone.

“Please… don’t… I-“ Ryan knows he sounds pathetic, near pleading his friend not to mock him; the corners of his mouth turned downwards, bottom lip pushed out sulkily. He grips at Shane’s wrist, attempting to pull his fellow Ghoul Boy’s palm away where it remains pressed to his face.

“I can’t believe you thought you could try walking around with a black eye. They can take like two weeks to heal, man! What were you going to do? Hide in cupboards and small spaces every time someone came near you? I mean, you are short enough, you would fit-“

“Shut up, Shane.”

“You’re ridiculous!” Shane chuckled, voice far too fond for it to be an insult, as his fingers softly stroke at Ryan’s cheek again. “I was so worried something had happened to you.” He adds, more seriously.

“No, I’m just an idiot.” Ryan replies, voice quiet, frowning still.

“Yeah, you are.”

And the tanned male goes to protest because _rude_ , he’s feeling very foolish and vulnerable right now _Shane Alexander Madej_ ease up on the insults.

But then Shane is leaning across, straining against the pull of the seatbelt wrapped around him and closing the space between them, using the hand on Ryan’s face to gently tug him forward. Ryan gets like .003 seconds to process what’s happening before Shane is kissing him.

And like what the fuck what the fuck what the _fuck_

Like, okay, sure, he ends up kissing back after a few half moments of his brain failing and rebooting but he’s still in a repetitive flurry of ‘what the fucks’ when Shane accidentally places pressure on his cheek without thought and a pain throbs across his face.

“Ow!” He gasps, unintentionally loud in the confines of his car and he pulls back, a reflex response.

“Shit, sorry, oh my god, sorry!” Shane says quickly, finally drawing his hand away. Ryan’s cheek feels cold in the absence of his friend’s large, warm palm.

“Did you just kiss me?” Ryan asks, dumbly, his hand hovering over the bruising before his fingers settle on his lips.

“No, a ghost did.” Because if it’s one thing Shane loves, it’s a good joke to deflect genuine emotion.

“I’m just, trying to catch up here. I don’t know if I have a concussion and I’m imagining things.”

“From punching yourself in the face? Most likely.” Shane’s playful smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, he’s evidently nervous now, questioning his actions. He sighs. “Yeah, I kissed you. Sorry, if like, that’s… something you didn’t want.”

Ryan is quiet. “No, it’s cool.” Is what he settles on. And Shane lets out a huff of air, which progresses into an anxious chuckle.

“Cool.” The Illinois born guy repeats, sounding slightly in disbelief.

“Next time, watch the eye… someone told me it can take two weeks to heal so… that’s a lot of time to be careful.”

“Oh…” Shane breathes out. “Pl-plenty of time to practice then.” He stutters, trying for smooth and failing.

A banging on the bonnet of his vehicle interrupts them, shaking the car slightly. They both turn their heads quickly to the sound and there, stood looking smug and annoyingly amused is none other than their colleague Curly with his all-knowing smile.

They can only just make out the “It’s about time you got yourself some Bergara action, Madej!” as it’s yelled in their direction before Shane is flipping off their Latino friend.

“Ignore him.” Shane mumbles, a faint pink flush spreading across the apple of his cheeks and working its way down his neck.

And if Ryan ends up mirroring Shane’s earlier pattern of: bewilderment, surprise and amusement then that’s not his fault. He’s piecing things together and has realised that Shane, as in his closest friend and co-worker, has clearly had some sort of discussion with Curly (who has already wandered off merrily to his own car) about Ryan. More specifically about “getting himself some action” with Ryan.

“Interesting.” Ryan says with a grin.

“Shut up, Ryan. You’re clearly _concussed_ from punching _yourself_ in the face. You’re not seeing things clearly.” Shane tries.

“Oh I might have one swollen eye that’s threatening to close every five seconds but I can definitely see clearly from my good eye that you like me, big guy.”

Shane groans and presses back into his seat, evidently flustered, and Ryan reaches out a hand, settling it on his friend’s thigh, palm-upwards, leaving Shane to decide if he’s going to connect his own.

It only takes a couple of seconds but he does. And Ryan feels his stomach swoop with nerves because this is so very new.

“I have to get roughed up more often, apparently you have a thing for it.” Ryan kids and Shane shoots him a look.

“No, I have a thing for idiots.”

“Great, because I’m just the kind that nearly knocks themselves out after dramatically flinging  themselves down on their bed.”

Silence falls over them.

One, two, three…

And Shane bursts out laughing.

“You didn’t- you didn’t!” His face crinkles, thin lips stretched into the widest smile, as he creases up, shaking as he continues to giggle. “You didn’t say it was because you were being dramatic and threw yourself down on the bed!” Shane struggles to get out passed his laughter.

“Shut up, Shane!” Ryan is red in the face, the bright colour contrasting with the dark hues of the plum shades of the bruising.

“Make me.” Shane says, still beaming.

And Ryan decides the best way to do just that is to kiss his dumb friend again.

**Author's Note:**

> so apparently i have a thing about hand holding and ryan saying what the fuck because that's all i seem to be writing about. we love a theme queen!


End file.
